“She figured it out,” I said thickly.

“She didn’t tell me.” He gazed steadily at me through the tops of his glasses as he said it. He was telling me that Sher had respected my privacy; and that he had, too, by not asking.

I sat down on the edge of an armchair across from the bed. We had the window between us, lighting both our faces. The conditions for perfect vulnerability had been established. So I told him everything I knew about what I was.

“Far out,” he said when I was done. “In fact, about the farthest out I’ve ever heard of. But none of you can figure out if you’ve got a Horseman in your head?”

I shook the body part in question. “I want to say I don’t. I’m sure I don’t. But how would I know? For a while Frances thought I was Tom Worecski, and I can’t even say for certain that I’m not.”

“No,” Theo said softly. “I’m pretty sure where he is. He’s calling himself Frederick Krueger. Some joke, huh? I never got it ’til yesterday.”

Freddy Krueger, with a handful of knives and the ability to turn dreams to his advantage. Who died at the end of every movie and came back again and again. Some joke. “Is he that bad?”

“I’m scared of him. I think my father’s scared of him.”

“And your father’s never even seen Nightmare on Elm Street, unless he bought it from somebody else. You knew I sold videos to your father?”

“Hell, yeah. That’s how you wound up at the Underbridge.”

After a moment I said, “Pardon?” Well, this wasn’t supposed to be painless.

Theo must have understood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t — look, my dad and I don’t get along. I mean, if he was just a guy I knew, I wouldn’t like him. And contrary to popular belief, being A. A. Albrecht’s kid is not the coolest thing in the world. I make a point of not telling people. So I couldn’t just march up to you outside my dad’s office and tell you about the Underbridge. And I couldn’t ask you to sign on, anyway. It’s Robby’s club.”

“So you asked Robby to ask me?”

“So I told Robby that you might know the stuff we needed, and that he should check you out. I told him where he could leave a message for you.”

“You knew all this about me?”

He flung his free hand out to one side. He would have flung the other one, too; I saw him wince. “You were interesting! All right? D’you know how many other people care about this stuff? Electronics and old video and recorded music?”

“We’re throwbacks,” I said. “No, you’re a throwback. I’m sort of a throw-forward. If that cigarette you showed me downstairs has marijuana in it, would you be willing to share it with me?”

He pushed his glasses back up his nose and poked his hand through his smooth brown hair. “It’ll put you on your butt. It’s high-test stuff.”